· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ Snow drifted down lazily, piling on the grass. Settling over the base as the winter tightened its grip on the clouds. A blanket of snow now covers the once green grass.

Inside the base, the cold worked its way through the floor and the walls, but something else seeped about the base... a small, almost subtle trace of festivity. Nothing flashy; there was no time for that, as an attack could happen at any moment. No lights, no garlands, no tacky streamers... God, how Price would do that if he had time to. Just one quietly marked square on the calendar in Price's handwriting...

Ugly Sweaters. December 20th...

Fantastic. A situation worse than gunfire. Embarrassing sweaters... Tragically, knowing Price, there was no escaping it. The man may be patient, but he is stubborn enough to drag the whole team into a holiday spirit even if it involves kicking, screaming, or bribing with good meals and drinks

Morning rolled in slow, the kind of cold that made the walls groan. Most of the team shuffled around with steaming mugs, hands wrapped tight around whatever hot drink they could scavenge. Even the plain food was a decent meal that wasn't just calories, protein, and all the other nutrients. An actual hearty meal that hinted even the kitchen staff were freezing and wanted something actually good, which ultimately showed mercy on everyone else.

As you look about, nearly everywhere... An ugly sweater rested on someone. The violent colors, the atrocious patterns, knitted crimes against humanity that people call some form of spirit. Some wore them proudly, while others didn't look amused but begrudgingly wore them to evade Price's encouragement. Not wanting to find out what that looked like.

Christian, atheist, agnostic, didn’t matter. Never would. Price had declared they were celebrating something, and by God, everyone would comply.